


Forelsket

by melonbutterfly



Series: Unkompliziert [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Calm Down Erik, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Is a Darling, Erik cleans things so he doesn't have to think about feelings, Erik fails at being inconspicuous, Erik is emotionally constipated, Love at First Sight, M/M, cooking as therapy, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik doesn't usually react to people like that, no matter how attractive they are, and Lord knows how many incredibly attractive people he's met. And anyway, even if he is attracted to someone, it doesn't… <em>overcome</em> him like this, never.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forelsket

Forelsket (Norwegian): The euphoria you experience when you’re first falling in love.

 

It's winter the first time Erik and Charles meet. The air is bone-chillingly cold, the sky hangs deep with heavy grey clouds, and the possibility of snow is high. Erik loves this kind of weather; loves the icy wind that whips through the streets, the way it makes people hunch in their winter coats and hurry from one destination to the next, islands of warmth and protection from the elements. A pleasant side-effect is that almost nobody recognizes Erik in scarf and hat, and the photographers that sometimes tend to hound him are far less in attendance as well. But even before any of that had mattered to Erik, he had loved winter; it had always been his favorite season.

The man on the other side of the street looks like he loves winter too with his wind-flushed cheeks and bright smile, but that's not what draws Erik to him. He later will never be able to tell what it was that drew his gaze to him in the first place; he usually avoids eye-contact, because people are far more likely to recognize him if he looks them in the face. The force of his reaction once he looks at the man full-on will always overshadow whatever it was that drew him to him in that first moment, what made him look up and seek the other man out with his eyes. Perhaps it was his voice.

They're standing on opposite sides of a traffic light; not a very busy one, it's a small street, but there are enough cars that crossing even while the light's red would be somewhat hazardous. Erik doesn't really have a place to be, he's just wandering around, taking in the atmosphere and enjoying the knowledge that he's looking towards two days of glorious, glorious freedom; not one single appointment, nowhere to be, nothing. Maybe that's why he comes to look at Charles; he's just glancing around aimlessly and focuses on the man on the other side of the street by accident. Or maybe it's the man's animated gestures, his excited voice as he talks into the headset almost hidden under his hair and hat, the clear Oxford in his accent. All these things certainly capture Erik's attention once he really notices the man.

It's definitely not just the way he looks, though that is undeniably what draws Erik in even more. The man is wearing a rainbow-colored hat with fitting mittens and a purple scarf; his dark grey coat is a relief among all those bright colors. None of that, however, can draw Erik's attention away from the man's face; his cheeks are red from the cold, bringing out his cheekbones, his eyes bright and glowing with excitement. He has dark brown hair that peeks out from under the terrible hat and for some reason looks incredibly soft, and his lips are red and frequently stretch into smiles as he listens to whatever the person he's talking to has to say. He's completely captivating, and Erik stands stock still as if frozen to the ground, staring at him.

Erik doesn't usually react to people like that, no matter how attractive they are, and Lord knows how many incredibly attractive people he's met. And anyway, even if he is attracted to someone, it doesn't… _overcome_ him like this, never. He's never been struck dumb like this, and he must have been struck dumb, because he doesn't even notice when the light turns green. He's too busy having a small freak-out because all of a sudden the man is walking towards him, _coming right at him,_ and he's looking at Erik, and… his eyes glide off Erik and he walks past.

For a few breathless seconds Erik has trouble coming to his senses, and he either manages or fails completely; all he knows is that suddenly he turns on his heels and follows the man, which must be the most insane thing he's ever done. He can't not do it, though; he can't just let this man walk out of his life like that, without knowing anything about him. He would spend the rest of his life regretting it and wondering what might have happened, if he would, which is insane, but nothing but the truth.

Luckily, Erik doesn't end up having to trail the man all the way to his front door (he likes to think that he wouldn't have done that anyway), because he enters the coffee shop down the street and stands in queue, still talking into his headset, though a little more sedate and quiet now. Erik has no idea what he's talking about, and he makes no effort to find out; he's not that far gone yet. All he does is stand in queue behind the man. Some coffee would probably do him some good now; maybe it'll bring his sanity back. He's already promising himself that he will not follow the man out of the shop if he gets his coffee to go.

Just before it's his turn to order, the man ends his call and plucks the headset out from under his hat; he stuffs it together with his mittens in his coat pocket. Then he orders a caramel hot chocolate, and all of a sudden it's Erik's turn to order. Automatically, he orders one of his usual favorites – white chocolate mocha – and then he has to pay and wait for his drink and they're standing right next to each other but that's not all; no, the man is _looking at Erik. ___

"Hello," Erik says accidentally. Then he ducks his head and looks away, because clearly his brain is not back to functioning on hundred percent, and he just wants to go home now with his white chocolate mocha and bemoan the fact that apparently, when it really counts he's just not smooth. He has two days off; he might as well use them to wallow in shame.

Except the man replies. "Hello," he says, sounding calm and composed and slightly amused, and it's just not fair. "Didn't we just pass each other by?"

Fuck. "Uh, yes." Erik pulls up his shoulders and hopes nobody recognizes him; the shop isn't very busy right now, but still, you never know. He can forget his two days off if tomorrow there'll be a headline about him stalking poor hapless guys into coffee shops.

"Sudden craving for caffeine?", the man teases, and Erik glances at him. His expression is open and relaxed, the flush still in his cheeks, and up close Erik can tell just how bright blue his eyes are. Jesus, he's never been so smitten with anybody, not even with Evelyn Miller in seventh grade, whom he had pined over for months. Especially not at first sight.

Which is probably the reason why Erik's mouth says without his consent, "Not really," which, god, can he get any more creepy? He might as well write that headline himself, go out with a bang.

But apparently that's the right thing to say, because suddenly the guy smiles widely at Erik. "Would you like to sit with me?" Unfortunately, that's when Erik's brain starts taking over again, because he hesitates. The man's smile falters a little. "I would enjoy some company," he says earnestly, a little hesitant now.

"I'd love to," Erik says quickly.

The man's smile comes back as if it was never gone; it makes something flutter in the pit of Erik's stomach. "I'm Charles."

Ah. Erik is not so famous he never has to introduce himself, but it's nevertheless been a while. He reaches out and shakes Charles' hand. "I'm Erik."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Charles says, and how can a person be so earnest without seeming at all ridiculous? It shouldn't be possible, and the actor in Erik attempts to analyze it – it's a combination of facial features and deliberate choice of words, the tone of his voice, and of course aura – but he stops quickly. Breaking it up doesn't take the charm away at all, because he still doesn't _understand,_ but this is not work, and he's likely never going to be offered a role where he needs to come off as guileless and innocent and honest. He just doesn't have the face or body for it, nor the right kind of history.

They take their mugs, long since arrived on the counter, and then Charles leads them to a table in a relatively private area of the shop with nobody sitting close by and not in clear view from the window. Erik is rather pleased with the choice, and it arouses the question whether Charles knows who he is or not. It's more likely he doesn't, but he might just not let on.

The unasked question is answered when, as soon as they've sat down and gotten comfortable – Charles' hair is unruly and curls at the tips, Erik finds as soon as the hat is off, and his pale throat looks delectable – Charles asks, "Do you live here? In New York, I mean." It's a more elegant variation of "come here often", Erik supposes, and Charles seems to be aware of the inanity of the question, because as soon as he's asked it he shakes his head impatiently and says, "Oh, forget it. If instead of a car, you would have to ride an animal to get around, would you rather have a giraffe or an elephant?"

This is a question Erik has never been asked in all his life, which says a lot, because in an attempt to be original (or to make him trip up and reveal something racy) interviewers have asked him the most inane and ridiculous questions. He thinks about it for a moment and then replies decisively, "An elephant."

"Really?" Charles leans in, supporting his chin on his hand. "With a giraffe, you could just stalk right through traffic."

"With an elephant, there would be no traffic for me," Erik returns. "Also, elephants are fast and can swim."

"Giraffes are faster by seven miles per hour," Charles replies, and who knows that sort of thing? "And it's been scientifically proven that they are able to swim, too." When Erik narrows his eyes, he laughs and raises both hands. "I'm just playing devil's advocate here, sorry."

"I like elephants better," Erik informs him haughtily. "They're sweet. Which one would you choose, then?"

"Elephants as well," Charles tells him and laughs when Erik raises an eyebrow. "I agree with you, they are absolutely lovely animals. What would you choose if you had to cross water over a greater distance, a shark or a dolphin?"

"Shark," Erik picks quickly. "Dolphins are vicious. You?"

Charles' eyes widen and then he starts to laugh. It's absolutely delightful, and Erik can't help but grin widely, even if he has no idea what's so funny.

"Excuse me," Charles giggles breathlessly once he has calmed down a little. "I have just never heard anybody pick sharks over dolphins because dolphins are vicious."

"It's true." Erik scowls. "They're bullies and can be really mean. Just because pop culture likes to depict sharks as evil doesn't mean they are. Nature rarely is." Then his scowl deepens as he realizes what Charles has just said. "Do you ask everybody these questions?"

"No," Charles says, and he's looking at Erik with an expression that makes Erik flush and shift in his chair. "I just thought that would be a more interesting topic than the usual small talk. You are absolutely delightful."

Of all the things, Erik expected this the least. He doesn't really get compliments much, at least not to his face, and usually it's something along the lines of how fit he is or somehow else pertaining to his looks. This, he knows even though he can't really tell how, is meant in an entirely different way. His flush deepens until his entire face must be deep red, he's sure of it, and he quickly lowers his gaze. "Thanks," he mumbles, then takes a deep breath and says, "You too." When he glances up, he finds Charles smiling softly at him, cheeks red. For a moment, they stare at each other dumbly; then Charles licks his lips and says, "Dolphin."

It takes Erik a second to figure out what that even means; when he does, he raises both eyebrows. At his incredulous expression, Charles shrugs, smiling slightly. "I like them. They're playful and smart and dolphin therapy can yield amazing results. Though I agree, sharks are commonly rather misrepresented in media. They can be very cute." He grins cheekily and adds, "Despite all the teeth." Erik has a feeling there is something he is not getting, but he has no idea what it is. So he decides to ask an unusual question of his own.

Unfortunately, he's not very creative or original, and so he uses a crutch. "If you had to choose between spending the rest of your life with blue or green skin, which would you pick?"

Charles perks up, looking utterly delighted. He says, "Choose between Andorian or Orion? That's difficult," and Erik falls a little bit in love. He's fully aware it's happening and yet is unable to prevent it, a very curious sensation. But it's clearly not his fault; he didn't even mean the question as a test to find out whether Charles knows Star Trek or not, and yet there it is. It's impossible not to react, though he does manage to not let on, at least.

"I think I'll have to go with Andorian, if only because I don't fancy much spending the rest of my life as a slave," Charles is saying, and Erik doesn't even care that the question was to choose between colors, not fictional alien species. "Also, it would probably fit my eye color better." That indeed is true.

It's a conscious decision on his part when Erik says, "You have wonderful eyes." He says it seriously, without a smile or wink, because it's true, and because he doesn't want to give himself the opportunity to opt out and play it off as a joke in case he chickens out later. Anyway, he's fairly sure they're past the point where both parties act like they're not actually flirting to save face in case the other person is not actually interested. They've possibly been past that point from the moment Erik didn't pretend to be here for the coffee before they even sat down.

Charles flushes deep red and ducks his head. His smile is bright when he says, "Thank you." He looks up at Erik from under his eyelashes and adds, "I find yours quite lovely as well."

They spend another ridiculous moment staring at each other, and they're so embarrassingly absorbed in it that they both jump when suddenly Charles' mobile rings. "I'm sorry, I have to take this, just a moment," Charles says very apologetically; Erik waves it off. To his surprise, Charles doesn't get up or turn away for some semblance of privacy, just accepts the call and asks, "Hank? Is everything going well?"

Erik makes an effort not to listen too closely to the ensuing conversation; it's of course impossible to prevent hearing Charles' end, but he purposefully doesn't think about it, just lets the words pass him by. He doesn’t like invading of privacy. Instead he sips at his nearly-forgotten mocha that is regretfully not very hot anymore, stirs a bit and starts skimming off what of the whipped cream hasn't melted yet.

He is so intent on not listening in on Charles' conversation that he almost misses it when it ends; he barely catches Charles' apology once it's over. The only reason he does tune in again in time is because Charles says his name. "My apologies, Erik, that was my TA, Hank. He's a little overly excitable at times and had something of a breakthrough."

"It's alright," Erik dismisses the apology. "So you're a professor at a university?"

Charles nods. "I teach Biomedical Engineering at Columbia University."

Erik raises an eyebrow. That's a prestigious position, he knows that much; Charles must be very good, especially considering how he can't be all that old. Can he? "How old are you?"

Charles huffs. "So we are actually going to do the small talk?" But he's smiling when he says it. "I'm twenty-nine, born and raised in Westchester, New York, though I did spend some of my formative years in England, as you no doubt have noticed already."

"I figured it might be important to cover the bare necessities," Erik explains, and then he can hardly back out, so he says, "I'm thirty-one, born and raised in Düsseldorf, though we relocated to New York when I was thirteen."

With a smile, Charles puts his hand on his chin again. "So who are you?"

For a moment, Erik has no idea how to answer that, and his pause makes the smile on Charles' lips widen. "You are someone who would rather ride an elephant than a giraffe, and prefers sharks to dolphins," he answers his own question. "Who am I?"

Fair enough, point made. "Someone who likes dolphins even though they're vicious, and who knows enough Star Trek to make a preference between minor alien species."

"I wouldn't exactly call the Andorians minor," Charles protests, "they did found-" He stops and flushes deep red when he catches Erik's wide grin. "Alright," he concedes, and he looks absolutely lovely, bashful and amused at the same time. "I like other science fiction too," he adds weakly.

"Do you now." Erik mirrors his pose, supporting his chin on his hand as well, which brings their faces rather close. "Tell me more."

Charles huffs. "You're terrible." There's a small pause as he thinks about it, and then he says, "I do enjoy Star Wars as well. Also comic book films, though I must admit I'm not overly familiar with the source material."

"Same here." Erik smiles.

They talk about movies for a while, and Erik carefully avoids mentioning any he has starred in; Charles doesn't bring any of them up, which means he has either seen them and not recognized Erik or has recognized him and doesn't want to bring it up, or he hasn't seen them. That's fine; some of them weren't particularly extraordinary, and none of them were huge blockbusters. Erik likes to take roles that have an edge, that challenge both him and the audience, but he isn't vain enough to assume that, going by what he has done so far, everybody should know who he is. Actually, he much prefers if they didn't, and he's very glad that Charles is either oblivious or discrete.

From films, they move on to books, and then they start to get random, from which space ships they'd love to own to the repeal of DADT (stemming from Charles wondering what impact it would have on the Stargate teams, which comes from them discussing the clunky design of the Daedalus). Erik learns that Charles likes cats a lot and plans to one day own a Maine Coon, "when I have a garden, so it'll be happy", and he likes being on roofs, especially at night, the city at his feet and the sky above. Erik is entirely enchanted with the image, Charles standing on a roof and not knowing whether to look up or down. He tells Charles that he loves going on walks or sitting in parks, on his own with the world passing by around him, and he even mentions the book he might have been writing on and off for about seven years now.

They talk for hours; around them the customers of the coffee shop ebb and flow, and they keep ordering drinks – Charles one hot chocolate after another, Erik trying his way through the menu, eventually forced to turn decaf because he gets too jittery – and never managing to drink more than half before their beverages turn cold because they're too involved in their conversation to remember to take more than occasional sips. Erik completely forgets the time until he gets so hungry his belly starts rumbling; Charles notices and laughs. Then he looks at his watch and is almost comically shocked, especially when he finds that outside, the streets have already turned dark – or at least as dark as it gets in a city.

"Oh dear," Charles says and looks around, looking vaguely dazed, like a person who is just waking up.

"Dinner?", Erik suggests. They've already spent three hours with each other, but it feels like barely any time at all.

"I'm so sorry," Charles replies; he looks both torn and guilty as he puts one hand on Erik's, squeezing a little. "I'm supposed to meet my sister for dinner, I'm surprised she hasn't called me yet, I'm already quite late, I'm afraid." But he doesn't jump up and put on his coat, just stares at Erik apologetically.

Erik turns his hand and twines their fingers, and when Charles squeezes and doesn't look away, he leans in and presses his mouth to those red, tempting lips. Charles immediately returns the kiss, and it's chaste, gentle, but it sends Erik's heart racing. It's over way too soon when they both pull away to stare at each other. Charles is flushed deep red, lips moist, and he looks as head over heels as Erik feels. Maybe it's a good thing that they're going to separate now; Erik feels like he needs some time to himself, find his footing again. He has no idea what's going on – actually, that's not true; he has a fairly good idea what's going on, and it's absolutely terrifying.

"…yes," Charles says after a moment, sounding slightly dazed. The tip of his tongue flicks out to run over his lower lip, and Erik doesn't think he's ever seen anything so tempting. Charles does it again, then clears his throat and squeezes Erik's fingers even while he leans back slightly. "As much as I'd love to continue, I really do have to go," he says apologetically. "I would be delighted, however, if we could meet up for dinner at a later point. If you're interested, that is."

Erik has never been so interested in his entire _life_. "Of course I am," he croaks, voice embarrassingly hoarse. "Tomorrow?" Too late, he realizes that he might not want to come across as too eager; he probably should have left more than twenty-four hours between their first and second date.

"I would love to," Charles says with a smile, and Erik's heart does an embarrassing flip only to plunge when Charles continues, even more apologetic now, "However, there is something I need to tell you first." He fidgets a little, gaze lowered, and Erik clenches his fingers probably a little too hard because he's suddenly worried that Charles will let go and put even more distance between them. "My apologies. I should – _would_ – have told you from the beginning, but by the time I realized that we're both honestly interested it was already too late. I don't usually do this, you understand," he adds, and he sounds honest to god guilty now.

Erik gets a very bad feeling. "You're not… you're not already in a relationship, are you?" His voice is hoarse for an entirely different reason and he considers letting go of Charles' hand, except Charles now is the one who is holding on tight.

"No!", he says quickly, and the reaction is quick enough to make it convincing, even if his appalled expression wouldn't.

Unfortunately, it doesn't make Erik feel better, because as soon as that is out of the way, his brain comes up with another horrible alternative. It's good at that, making up worst-case scenarios. "Are you a reporter?"

Now Charles seems confounded. "Uhm, no? Why would I- you already know that I'm a professor at Columbia University."

Erik nods and lowers his gaze, and bloody hell, how does he manage to do that? Go from first meeting over the honeymoon phase directly into the first crisis within barely three hours. It must be a talent he hadn't previously been aware of.

"No, it's…" Erik clears his throat. He figures he has to tell Charles something as well, because it appears he truly has no idea who Erik is, and if they're really going to do this, he should know as soon as possible. Preferably before some stalker paparazzi snaps a picture of them together and it ends up all over the internet. "I should tell you something too, I suppose."

"Oh," Charles says weakly and gives Erik a fleeting smile. "Are you in a relationship?"

Erik quickly shakes his head. "No."

Charles squeezes his fingers and nods. "Okay. I don't really mind if you're a reporter, though I still don't understand why it would be so bad if I were one."

Right. After clearing his throat, Erik gets over it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. "I'm an actor, and I'm sort of… well, famous." Charles just stares at him for a moment, not saying a word or reacting in any way, so Erik quickly adds, "You should know because it's not unlikely that, well. If you're seen with me, people will pay attention. You might even be recognized."

Charles tilts his head. "I must admit, I'm not overly familiar with some pop culture," he then says slowly, apologetically.

Erik doesn't quite know what to say to that. "I didn't… I didn't mean you should recognize me or anything. In fact, I prefer it when people don't, but it sort of comes with the trade?" He lifts his shoulders.

"No, I mean, yes, of course," Charles agrees hastily. "I just meant… what films did you participate in?"

Erik thinks about it for a moment – he of course knows which films he starred in, but he doesn't really know which ones Charles would know, so he decides to go backwards from most recent. " _113 Days_?"

"It sounds familiar," Charles says slowly, brows furrowed. "Was it in the cinema recently?" Suddenly, his face clears. "Oh, it's the one set in Auschwitz, right? About the revolt? I meant to see it, but I didn't manage." He sounds apologetic again, as if he's personally failed Erik by not seeing his movie.

Erik waves it off. "It doesn't matter." It's actually still running, but he doesn't really want Charles to go see it just because Erik is in it. He should watch it because he's interested in the story, not in Erik; his character isn't exactly a clean-cut hero (not that Erik thinks Charles won't be able to tell the difference between actor and role). It had been a difficult movie to make; he had played a member of the 12th Sonderkommando, and the whole topic had been difficult to handle for everyone involved. The Holocaust was always a delicate matter, and Erik had had to be very careful what he said and how he said it when he was asked about the movie and the conflicts it portrayed. Quite frankly, the onslaught of interviews with the premiere of the film had been emotionally draining, which was probably one of the reasons his agent had told him to take two days off, even though technically he shouldn't right now.

"Okay. What else have you starred in? I must have seen something." Charles leans forward, looking determined, sister completely forgotten. For a moment Erik considers reminding him, but he's so far gone that he's even okay talking about himself if it means more time spent in Charles' company.

" _Scythe_?", Erik suggests, but Charles looks uncomprehending. "It's set in medieval times. It's about a man – a scythe smith – who marries a Roma woman, and their child is born deformed, so the villagers burn the house with the wife and child still in it because they're afraid it's a sign that God is angry with them." It's a somewhat bloody film – the man takes his scythe and kills all those involved in the murder of his wife and daughter – and Charles had mentioned earlier that he wasn't much of a fan of gratuitous violence, so Erik isn't surprised when Charles apologetically shakes his head. " _The Lillehammer Affair_?"

Charles visibly lightens up. "I've seen that one!", he announces triumphantly. "It's about that Moroccan waiter that they assassinated because they mistook him for a terrorist."

"That's the one." Erik nods. "I play one of the Mossad agents."

Charles beams at him. "It's a good film," he says, and his mobile chooses that moment to ring shrilly, making them both jump. Charles looks guilty again, like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar, and he sends Erik a deeply apologetic look as he takes the call. "Yes?"

Again, Erik tries not to listen and instead looks around the coffee shop; one of the workers catches his eye and gives him a wide smile, eyeing his and Charles' hands still intertwined on the table. Erik quickly looks away, but he can't prevent the answering smile that appears on his face.

"I'm so sorry, Erik," Charles says a moment later, squeezing his fingers. "That was my sister, I really have to go. Also, I didn't tell you yet what I meant to tell you from the beginning," he adds ruefully. Erik bites his lower lip, suddenly apprehensive again, and watches as Charles visibly steels himself. "First, I'd like for you to know that I am definitely interested in, ah, dating you." He pauses for a moment. "There's no easy way to tell you this. I'm asexual."

Erik frowns. "Okay?" He has never heard of humans being asexual before and really has no idea what it means. The only time he heard that word was during biology class, but he's fairly sure Charles isn't talking about reproduction. It would be a strange way to say he's infertile, and also it's not like it matters, especially so early on.

"I can tell you don't really know what I'm talking about, and that's okay!", Charles hastily reassures him. He looks terribly nervous, and Erik sort of just wants to hug him and tell him it's okay, even though he doesn’t know that. "It's estimated that only one percent of the population is asexual, which is not many people in the grand scheme of things, but, well, I'm among them. I'm definitely not aromantic though, by which I mean I'm interested in forming a romantic relationship. Of course we first have to get to know each other better, but I'm interested, but I understand if you're not. I mean. Usually when I date the people I date already know I'm asexual before we even meet face to face, this has never happened to me, I'm sorry. I didn't handle this well." Dejected, Charles lowers his head; he looks ridiculously guilty, like he led Erik on, but as far as Erik can tell he didn't really. He doesn't really know, though, has no idea what to think, what this means.

"So," he says slowly, trying to make sense of Charles' babble. "You're saying that you're interested in dating me, but not in having sex with me?"

"No – I mean, yes, I'm interested in dating you, but I also am interested in having sex with you, eventually. I just… work differently. I don't feel sexually attracted to you. Or anyone, really."

"Okay." Erik frowns. "So what does it mean? If you still want to date me and have sex with me?"

"Well, I don't really… well, everybody is different. I don't really know how it works in a relationship where nobody is asexual. I haven't had much sex because I've never been particularly interested. The only reason I'd like to do it is because I enjoy-" Charles' mobile rings again, making him glare at it and refuse the call with a muttered "Not now, damnit." He looks up at Erik with that apologetic expression again, and Erik would really like if Charles would stop looking so guilty.

"You have to go meet your sister," Erik says, and Charles nods unhappily, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. Erik doesn't really know how to make his anxiety go away, so he just squeezes his fingers again and leans in a little. "I don't really understand what this means for us," he says slowly, trying to find the right words to express what he's thinking, even though he barely knows himself what that is. "I want to know more about how this would affect a relationship."

"You can ask me anything," Charles says quickly, refusing another call with a nasty glare at the mobile. "Not now, obviously, but… if you give me your email address I can give you some links where you can read up on asexuality, and you can ask me any questions you can think of. I'll understand if you don't feel like you can do this, though. I know it's a little complicated."

"Charles." Erik squeezes his fingers again. "How about you let me find out the scope first?" He wants to tell him that right now, he can't see the problem, but he shouldn't – he doesn't really know what he's talking about, after all, and no matter how much he likes Charles, he has to think about it first. He definitely needs more information.

"Right, of course," Charles says, and Erik can't really resist; he pulls Charles' hand up and kisses his knuckles. It sends a flush to Charles' cheeks, and Erik would like to stay here for much longer, try to make him blush deeper and find out everything about him, but that infernal mobile phone rings again, and it's probably better if they separate. Erik needs to clear his head a little and find out what asexuality actually entails.

"Right," Charles says again, swallowing audibly. Then he for some reason hands over his mobile phone. "For your email address," he explains when Erik raises one dubious eyebrow, and Erik quickly types in his mobile number, his private email address, and his agent's number just to be safe. In the middle of it, the mobile rings again, and Erik denies the call after a quick glance at Charles, who scowls at it. He looks like an angry kitten. It's embarrassing how smitten Erik is with him.

Wordlessly, he hands the mobile back after quickly calling his own mobile just so he'll have Charles' number as well, and then he very reluctantly lets go of Charles' hand.

Five minutes later, he's standing outside the coffee shop in the cold, watching Charles walk away, his ridiculous rainbow hat almost glowing in the dark it's so bright. After Charles is out of his sight completely, he turns and slowly makes his way back home.

He’s as deep in thought as he was when he left, but he feels like something in him has shifted significantly. His thoughts are whirling; on the one hand, there’s the excitement about Charles, about everything he said that Erik agreed with, about how this happened. Erik has never met a person and immediately felt so much about them, and it’s kitschy and probably not true, but he can’t remember ever having felt so much about anyone at all. It makes him feel insecure – because what has he, really? He's not all that exciting, all he can do is fake emotions, and that's not exactly a recommendation in his opinion – and scared, because the only thing valuable he has is his heart, and he's usually a lot more careful with it. He never gives it away without very carefully thinking about it, and even then only bit by bit – right now it feels like he's given Charles a huge chunk of it when he wasn't even paying attention, and they've only just met. It's insane.

Then, of course, there's confusion; he has never really heard of asexuality outside of biology before and feels vaguely guilty about it, because he had previously considered himself a fairly tolerant, informed guy. Ten minutes after they separate Charles sends him a text with several links, emphasizing again that Erik is welcome to ask him anything at all. Erik plans to check them out as soon as he gets home; he wants to know what it means. From what Charles said it sounds like he does want to have sex, but not immediately, which Erik thinks is no problem at all. What he really doesn't understand, though, is what Charles meant when he said he is not sexually attracted to anyone. Why would he want to have sex if he, well, doesn't want to?

This is an idea he is disabused of with the very [first](http://www.asexuality.org/home/overview.html) link he checks out, that not feeling sexual attraction equals feeling no attraction at all. As soon as this is pointed out to him he cringes inwardly, because of course; it should have been obvious. The [second](http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/life/human-biology/asexuality.htm) link Charles sent him is a lot more elaborate, and Erik feels a lot less clueless after having read through it all. And he does have some questions, but he isn't sure he should actually ask them, because some of them are fairly intimate. He wouldn't ask _anyone_ he's dating, asexual or not, what they would like and would not like to do in bed this early, never mind that he's never seriously considered dating someone this fast after first meeting them.

There is something he has to ask, though, because he needs to know before he can make an informed decision of whether or not he'd like to pursue a relationship with Charles. He's never had to evaluate how important sex is to him in a relationship, at least not to this extent; he's been in relationships where they had a lot of sex, and relationships where they had less sex. He had never minded either way, and he had not really thought, much less talked about it.

It's already past nine, so he decides to send Charles an email instead of texting or calling him.

 

_Hey Charles,_

_If read your links, they were very informative, thank you. Some of the things I have read made me re-evaluate what I used to take for granted in a relationship and what people consider the norm. And I do have some questions, but I'm not sure whether I should ask them all. After all, we've only just met, and I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable._

_What I would like to know, though, is how important you consider sex to be in a relationship, what you consider more and what less important. It's what I've been thinking about a lot recently (as in, the past three hours, I guess?). I did some googling and read this[article](http://www.salon.com/2011/08/20/asexuality/). Ever since then I've been wondering how often (because to me it seems impossible that I haven't) I've had sex in order to be intimate, and I wonder how real that sort of intimacy really is._

_Suffice to say, never have I thought so much about sex before, ever._

_I loved meeting you, though, I had a great time. I hope you had a nice time with your sister and she wasn't too cross with you for being late._

_Erik_

 

He stares at the email for a while, fiddling around with phrasings and words; he feels incredibly awkward, always does when he has to email someone. That's why he has an agent, so she can take care of this sort of thing for him, but this really isn't something he can – or even wants to, really – foist off on him.

In the end, he just hits send and then quickly shoves away from his desk and goes into the kitchen to eat something; all he can find is a glass of pickles, and he doesn't really feel like going to the extent of calling for take out, so he eats the pickles.

Really, he muses while he nibbles at them, this is what happens when he's away from home for so long; he forgets to do such essential things as buy groceries. When he's filming he always has food in his trailer and there is always food to be found somewhere, none of which organized in any way by him. And when he's off promoting, he's in hotels, and there is room service.

It's ridiculous, but this happens to him every time he's been away for several weeks; he has to relearn living the life of a functioning, normal adult. Doing laundry, picking up after himself, cleaning – his cleaning lady isn't permitted to clean when he's home. He doesn't like having strangers in his home, and he can pretend it isn't happening while he is away, but that only works if he never sees her. He doesn't even know her name; Azazel takes care of this sort of stuff for him. It's what Erik pays him for, after all.

Still, it stands to reason he'll spend some time in his flat now, so he probably should go grocery shopping tomorrow. He doesn't yet have a new film lined up; he just wrapped one up and then immediately had to go on the promotional tour for _113,_ and after he's had his time off he has some interviews and photo shootings lined up, if he remembers correctly. He won't have to leave New York for any of that, which means he needs food.

It also means he has the opportunity and hopefully also the time to see Charles again, but he forces the thought and the giddiness it ignites down. He's spent the past hours thinking about nothing but Charles and sex – and not in the fun way either – he's too confused right now, he needs to not think about any of that for a while. Otherwise, all he will accomplish is getting hopelessly tangled up in his own thoughts and wishes until he can't tell anymore what he wants and what he logically should do.

So it's fortunate that, when he gets back to his laptop, Charles hasn't replied to his awkward email yet. He isn't at all disappointed.

Turning his email program off decisively, Erik starts to troll the Internet for a bit. It's what he usually does when he comes back after an exhausting sixteen hour day and he's too wired to sleep yet. He doesn't watch much TV and he's too full of nervous energy right now to read a book. He takes care not to go anywhere he could encounter himself and ends up comparing English and German Wikipedia articles; the discrepancies always amuse him.

He does not check his inbox before going to bed.

It's also not the first thing he does the next day, no matter how much he wants to. Instead, he deliberately takes his time during his morning ablutions, and then he goes grocery shopping, has breakfast, and then he vacuums all his floors just to make a point before he finally lets himself turn the laptop on and check his email.

Charles has written back; had written back before Erik even went to bed, he notes when he checks the time stamp, and he refuses to feel guilty or annoyed with himself for not checking.

 

_Erik,_

_I'm glad to hear from you! Dinner with my sister was nice, thank you. It always is, even if she can be a bit noisy sometimes – I suppose that's normal for siblings, though I only have one, so I can't really compare._

_As to your questions, I really meant it when I said you can ask me anything. I figure you actually should ask me anything; I don't mind talking about sex (actually I find it very interesting, probably also because I don't understand the immense appeal; it's quite a fascinating topic, really), and I think you should know everything before you make a decision on whether you're able to have a relationship with someone like me or not. I also meant it when I said it's okay if you find you can't do it._

_On intimacy, created through sex (that article was really interesting, I'd love to talk about it, if you're comfortable with that); I don't think it's a false sort of intimacy. I just think that people sometimes mistake it for something that it's not, because the lines can blur – sex is physical, and it can be nothing more sometimes, but it can be quite emotional too, and thus help facilitate a deeper emotional intimacy. It sometimes happens, though, that one person feels more emotionally involved in the sex than the other, or that two people feel close because of the sex they have but in the end it turns out that that's all that's between them. I'm not saying that it's always like that, and it's just theories (I personally don't have much experience on the matter, as I said), but that's what I think._

_As for me, I find an emotional connection a lot more important. I also want to have things in common with a person; hobbies and ideas, and I want to be able to do nothing but talk for hours (much like we did yesterday). I won't be able to have sex with you until I'm… this is difficult to put to words, so bear with me while I try. It has to do with trust, and with being used to being physically close to you, and also with non-sexual intimacy and how I feel (and how you feel). I could happily do with having no sex at all, but I do enjoy sex, if likely for different reasons. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like orgasms, but it can't be about that for me; I'm perfectly happy with the orgasms I can have by myself. For me, it's about enjoying, well, my partner, and mostly their enjoyment. Not in the way that I'm happy servicing them, but that I enjoy being able to make them happy, and I enjoy being close, and also it's just… I just like doing some things. (This is me, censoring myself. I have been repeatedly informed that I can be quite inappropriate at times, because I can't really tell what would be polite to discuss in what context and what wouldn't be.)_

_Ah, I got somewhat off topic, didn't I? My apologies. To answer your question: I don't find sex very important, but I also don't necessarily find it unimportant. It depends on my partner, really. What I find absolutely vital, though, is an emotional connection, and enjoying each other's company._

_I think about sex too, though not really as much as I used to when I was still trying to work everything out. It took me a long time to realize what's wrong with me. (Nothing is wrong with me, I know that now, but when you're a teenager all you know is that you're different from the others, and that's enough to make one feel wrong, isn't it?) It's somewhat funny, really, how much I, as an asexual, think about sex._

_Please ask me any questions you might have. This is as much out of self-preservation as the genuine wish for you to know; what if, in a couple of weeks, we find out that we don't fit together in a major way? It would hurt both of us a lot more then than it would now. (For example, I'm really not sure I'd enjoy penetrative sex. I've never tried it, and I'm not too keen on the idea; I might be willing to try it at one point, but to be honest, I think it's unlikely.)_

_I had a great time too. If you want to, we could talk on the phone sometime, but it's perfectly okay if you're more comfortable with emails for now._

_Charles_

 

Erik sits back and takes a deep breath. Charles tends to talk a lot, he had already known that; he enjoyed it, actually. During their talk yesterday Charles would on occasion get very animated and involved, gesturing and grimacing, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Erik feels like he could listen to him forever when he gets like that, no matter what he's talking about.

Also, it seems Charles really has no problem at all talking about sex and really, really wants Erik to ask his questions, no matter how intimate some of them are. Erik doesn't really mind that, he figures that's a good thing actually, even if he's rather embarrassed still. He's not sure he'd be able to talk to Charles on the phone about the things he's wondering about, though; he's not even sure he'd be able to just write them down. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't know why he's so embarrassed, but that doesn't change the fact that he is, and so he doesn't reply to Charles' email immediately. Instead, he goes to unpack his bags and tries to force himself to get used to the idea of talking about very intimate things.

It doesn't really work, naturally, and so he decides to do it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. Before he can change his mind, as soon as he's made the decision he drops the clothes he had been about to put in his wardrobe and quickly types off his email.

 

_Hey Charles,_

_I'm sorry, I have to do this really fast before I change my mind. Here are my questions, feel free to ignore any:  
Do you masturbate? What do you think/feel if you do it? What are your fantasies/what do you like to do in bed? Why do you like it?  
You mentioned you're not sure you like penetrative sex. Did you mean receiving or giving? Or is there no difference?  
What about touching that isn't sexual? Are there any rules you have? (Like where you don't want to be touched unless it's sex.)  
How do you have sex? By that I mean, is it spontaneous or do you plan to have it in advance?_

_Erik_

 

He hits send and immediately feels utterly mortified, but it's too late – and that was the point, really, no matter how much he wishes he could take it back now. As punishment, he decides to wash all his clothes, even the clean ones; he deserves all the ironing he'll have to do as a result, and hopefully he'll forget what he did in the process.

Unfortunately, he forgot that laundry doesn't work that way; as soon as the washing machine starts, he realizes that he now has to wait at least an hour, and then he'll have to put everything in the tumble dryer, and only after that he'll actually have something to do.

So he decides to make some food, and instead of boiling some potatoes and carrots together and calling it a meal (it's called Möhren Unternander, and he remembers his mother making it a lot for him, before she remarried and they had more money) he goes grocery shopping and makes a real meal, including dessert. By the time he's done, two hours have passed and he's not even all that hungry, so he leaves it and checks his inbox instead.

Charles has replied.

 

_Erik,_

_Thank you for all the questions. I'm serious, I appreciate it a lot; I can tell that was difficult for you, and I'm really sorry if I was a little pushy; I didn't realize that I might have come across like that until you sent me that email. I really didn't mean to make you feel like you have to ask me these things. It's just, well, it's really not at all unusual for a relationship between someone asexual and someone not-asexual to end prematurely and badly because it turns out the two individuals are incompatible after all. To be honest, it's happened to me too, so I guess I was a little too cautious and due to that forgot to take your feelings into account, and for that I apologise. I truly am sorry._

_Now, to your questions:_

_Yes, I masturbate. It used to be a touchy subject to me for a while, because I enjoy it physically, but I was taught that it's dirty and shameful, and I was already feeling ashamed for being different, and I don't even fantasize or anything; I just do it because it feels good, and it took me some time to accept that that's fine. So I'm not sure I'd be entirely comfortable with you watching. I myself do like to watch, but it's perfectly okay if that makes you uncomfortable._

_This neatly segues into what I like to do in bed: I like to watch. I also like to give instructions, and I really like tying my partner up and do things to them. (Perfectly consensual, of course; anything that isn't completely consensual is quite a turn off for me, actually. With that I mean even the idea makes me feel somewhat nauseous, which means I tend to discuss sex a lot before it happens. Unfortunately, that means being spontaneous is nearly impossible with me.)  
Basically, I like to do things, and it's not always about control (though it definitely is, sometimes). I'm not that fond of having things being done to me (which isn't at all about control, I just don't really enjoy it all that much and tend to get bored), and I don't always climax, but as I said, it's not about that for me anyway. I get quite different things from sex than I get from masturbating.  
It's a bit difficult to answer this question, because as I said, I haven't done much. I'm willing to try a lot; the only limits I can think of right now are anything involving sharp things, blood or extreme pain, and of course consent. This also includes mind-altering substances; I'd probably be at least uncomfortable having sex if my partner is drunk or drugged.  
About penetrative sex; I've never done it, as I said, so we're going to have to find out together. I'm equal in my dislike about being on the receiving or giving end; to be honest I'm not even sure I dislike it all that much, the thought of doing it right now just doesn't appeal to me at all. I figure I'll know better after we've done some things, but as I said, I can't promise I'll change my mind._

_About non-sexual touching: I'm a cuddle slut. It's absolutely true. I love cuddling, and I could do it all day. I don't (want to) do it with anyone, but I've always wanted to do it with more people than people wanted to do it with me. It makes some people uncomfortable, I think because some people associate it with sexual intimacy, so I don't really talk about it much. I like hugging too; I see it as a weaker form of cuddling, and the great thing is it's more socially acceptable to hug people even if you're not in a relationship.  
Something that I also like is kissing, but I'm aware it can be borderline sexual; it isn't really for me, I can kiss for hours without getting at all sexually aroused (and I do get sexually aroused, sometimes). Sometimes I'm not going to want to do it, though – as opposed to cuddling and hugging, which I generally always like. (This is no exaggeration.)  
Also, you could touch me anywhere and I wouldn't perceive it as sexual unless we've decided in advance that we're going to have sex. This is probably rather strange to you, and I realise it can take a lot of fun out of sex for some people, but unless I'm being told with words "I want to have sex" I don't realize. (Once, a partner said to me "I'm horny" and I said "okay". I didn't realize until much later that they were trying to initiate sex.)_

_What I want to emphasise, Erik, is that it has nothing to do with you if I don't want to do something. That I'm not sexually attracted to you is in no way a reflection of how physically attractive you are, and it has absolutely no influence on how attracted to you I am otherwise._

_I hope that answers all your questions; feel free to let me know if there is anything else._

_Charles_

 

Erik reads the email twice before he shoves away from the table and decides to do some dusting.

Four days later he has alphabetized all his books, CDs and DVDs, cleaned his whole flat from top to bottom (not that there was much to do, his cleaning lady is evidently excellent), cooked a bunch of meals, most of which he froze, and, once his break was over, gave an interview and met up with Azazel to discuss script offers.

He hasn't replied to Charles' email. In fact, he has stayed far away from his whole inbox, because he feels incredibly guilty for ignoring Charles like that after he was so open and answered all of his questions, but he's just… freaking out.

At first, he tries to pretend nothing is going on, but that works about as well as is to be expected, and on the third day, after the interview (of which he can scarcely remember anything; he can only hope he didn't say anything inappropriate) he gets spectacularly drunk. The next morning he feels sufficiently awful and also like he has punished himself enough, and spends half the day in bed, nursing both his hangover and his self-loathing for doing this to Charles, for hurting him like this after he was so open and accepting and welcoming. He really doesn't deserve this sort of treatment.

Erik isn't the most self-receptive of people around. He doesn't think much about his own emotions, or where they originate from, and if at all he deals with the effect instead of the cause. This has served him more or less well so far – he has hurt people in the past, but he had always known what was wrong and what was right, and he had always known when it was his turn to apologize. That doesn't mean he had always done so, but he had at least known he should have.

He certainly knows that he has to now. There's no way he's getting around it, and he can't keep ignoring his email inbox or the thought of Charles; that much his excessive reaction has proven to him. He really doesn't get drunk normally, or has to go to such extremes not to think about somebody.

The problem, as he works out through slow and excruciating self-exploration, is the way Charles had spoken to him: as if they're really going to do this, as if they're on the verge of having a relationship. Even more, they actually _are,_ and they barely even know each other. They met _once,_ and admittedly they had talked for three hours, but still. Erik has never in all his life reacted so spontaneously, so impulsively, and it frankly terrifies him, that he is capable of reacting like that at all. He had considered himself a rational person, driven by careful, deliberate thought most of the time, and finding that that is actually not the case really scares him. What else is he capable of doing where Charles is concerned? He doesn't have much, and most of what he has isn't particularly important to him, but he doesn't know himself anymore, and he has no frame of reference at all.

Additionally, it would be a lie to claim that Charles' asexuality has nothing to do with Erik's reaction. Erik really doesn't understand it, and he'd be able to better deal with his own infatuation if he knew that he at least isn't alone, that Charles is equally enchanted, though really, once he thinks about it he doubts he'd be able to believe it if Charles actually were. Erik isn't all that interesting, really.

And that's the root of the problem, really. What does Charles want from him?

Not to say that all of Erik's previous relationships had been based on sex and mutual sexual attraction, but the more Erik thinks about it the more he realizes he has problems understanding the difference between a non-sexual, romantic relationship and a deep friendship. To him, sex and romance are irrevocably intertwined, and he had never even considered separating the two; since it's been suggested to him, he has had troubles adjusting to the idea that they aren't necessarily as intertwined as he used to think. Even if it's perfectly logical, really, because there are so many people who enjoy sex with no strings attached, no emotional connection. Erik has had that sort of sex too, but he had quickly found that it wasn't really for him; he got off, yes, but it felt mechanical, like going through the motions. To him, the person he was with needed to be something more to him than just a partner for the moment.

After he has come to these realizations, Erik heaves himself out of bed and drags himself in front of his laptop, turning to the [forum](http://www.asexuality.org/en/) that had been among the links Charles had suggested to him five days ago. He quickly finds an area that seems to be especially addressed to people like him titled [For Sexual Partners, Friends and Allies](http://www.asexuality.org/en/index.php?/forum/30-for-sexual-partners-friends-and-allies/%20) and starts reading through the threads, absently sipping at a tall glass of orange juice in an attempt to stave off the persistent pounding in his head. He's getting too old for hangovers.

Two hours later, his headache hasn't gotten much better, but some things are clearer to him. He hadn't really been able to imagine how a relationship without sex is supposed to work, but it seems it is perfectly possible. Apparently he's rather lucky, because Charles is willing to have sex – enjoys it, even – so he won't have to give it up completely. Quite honestly, he isn't sure he'd be able to if he had to, and even if the forum tells him that that's nothing to be ashamed of, it does make him feel vaguely guilty.

He feels even more guilty, however, for ignoring Charles so, especially after that last email he's been sent; Charles had been very open in it, and Erik doesn't want to imagine how hurt he must be feeling. So, before he can change his mind, he dials Charles' number. He doesn't usually do this, just call people on the phone; he dislikes that more than he does sending emails, but he feels Charles really deserves an explanation, and he's not sure how coherent he'll be if he's allowed some time to think about it.

As soon as Charles answers the phone with a tentative "Hello?" he realizes his mistake, because he has no idea what to say.

"Charles," he says awkwardly. "Uhm, hi. It's me. Erik."

"Hi," Charles replies, clearly cautious.

"I want to apologize," Erik tells him quickly, before he loses all courage and just hangs up and pretends the past five minutes never happened. He'd never forgive himself for being that cowardly. "I'm really sorry that I haven't replied to your email yet."

"It's alright," Charles says, audibly warming up, but still a bit tentative. "How are you?"

"Not so good," Erik replies truthfully; he might as well do it right, and Charles deserves more than just a simple sorry. "I feel really bad. I want to explain. Are you busy right now?"

Charles is silent for a moment, just long enough to make Erik a bit worried. "Not really," he says then. "Do you want to talk, or would you like to meet? You can really just send me an email, though, if you'd be more comfortable with that, truly."

"No," Erik says firmly, mostly because the idea sounds very tempting and he doesn't want to let himself bail out, and also because he's starting to suspect Charles can be a bit too accommodating at times, at the expense of himself. "I'm not letting you down gently, Charles. I want to… I want to try this. But you deserve an explanation. Would you… would you like to come over? Or I can come to you, whatever you prefer."

He can hear Charles take a deep breath, and then another. "Okay," Charles says, sounding both relieved and scared. It's more than enough to remind Erik that he's not alone in this. "Okay."

Half an hour later, Charles rings Erik's doorbell, and Erik only barely manages not to drop the skillet. He promised Charles an early dinner and decided to make a quick stir-fry, because he wasn't sure any of his frozen meals would still taste good enough after defrosting.

He's terribly nervous when he lowers the temperature of the oven before going to open the door. For the past half hour, he's been trying to figure out how to explain himself to Charles coherently, but as soon as the doorbell rings everything is forgotten. It doesn't help that the moment his eyes fall on Charles he's, as cheesy as it sounds, struck completely speechless. It seems impossible, but he clearly forgot just how enchanting Charles is, how much just seeing him makes Erik want to keep him.

"Hey," Charles says, a bit breathless, clearly nervous, but the smile brightening his face is genuinely happy.

"Hey," Erik replies, somehow breathless too all of a sudden. There is an awkward moment where they just stare at each other, and then Erik opens his door wider at the same time as Charles reaches out for him hesitantly, hand faltering halfway. Before he can drop it Erik reaches out and takes it. They both still, and there's another awkward moment of them staring at each other, only this time they're holding hands.

"It's good to see you," Charles says after a while, eyes flickering from Erik's eyes to his mouth and back to his eyes again.

"You too," Erik means to say, but somehow he leans down instead, and it's as if Charles had only been waiting for that because as if he's been let loose, he moves in quickly as well, his whole body swaying towards Erik's as he raises on his toes and brings their lips together.

Nothing is awkward after that. Erik's heart is racing as he tilts his face a little to fit their lips together better, and they're not even doing much but pressing against each other gently, but somehow Erik feels completely breathless. Charles just… he's intoxicating. The way he smells, clean and of detergent and not much else, the way he feels, warm and soft, and how he completely melts into Erik when Erik puts his free hand on his waist to pull him closer. Charles' fingers curl around Erik's while his other hand lands on Erik's chest, where it slowly slides down until it comes to rest on his belly, thumb and index finger pinching the cloth of Erik's shirt.

Charles makes a happy noise and presses closer, and the next moment their kiss turns less gentle as they start to nip at each other's mouths. Erik guides Charles' hand to his hip. When Charles takes the hint and lets go of his fingers, taking hold of Erik's hip instead, Erik is free to cup Charles' face as he's been wanting to, rub his thumb over his cheek.

Charles' skin is soft, his cheek heated, and he feels so good against Erik, in his arms. This is why when Charles pulls away Erik chases after him, making a protesting noise. Charles indulges him for a moment, but he soon pulls back again, and this time Erik lets him. They don't let go of each other otherwise and go back to staring at each other, flushed and out of breath.

"Hi," Erik pants after a moment, and a smile chases over Charles' face before his expression softens.

"Hey," he replies gently.

"So, uhm." Erik swallows and smiles fleetingly before stepping aside. "Come in."

Charles returns the smile and walks past Erik, stopping in the hall and looking around, not hiding his curiosity. Erik's flat isn't overly big; it has a medium sized living room, a small bedroom and a small kitchen and bathroom. Its best features are the big windows in the living room, knee-high to ceiling, that offer a great view and make the room feel like it's much bigger. Erik loves those windows.

He takes Charles' coat, hat and scarf off him, gesturing into the living room. "Make yourself at home; food will be ready in a minute."

Charles smiles at him and steps out of his shoes before walking on socket feet into the living room. His socks are lime green, and the toes are separate, and Erik spends some time thinking about why he likes that so much while he check on the stir-fry. Nothing is burned, thankfully, and he stirs and starts to think about what to drink; he completely forgot the part where one generally has something to drink with food. He's not sure he has any wine, actually, and isn't that sort of a requirement? This counts as a date, doesn't it?

A few minutes later, he hears Charles pad into the kitchen. "All your shelves are alphabetic," he comments as he steps up to Erik, putting one hand in the small of his back.

"Yes," Erik says. "I like it when I know where everything is."

From the way Charles beams at him, one would think he said something incredibly profound and brilliant. "I have a system too," Charles informs him. "It's a bit less methodic, but for the same reason."

"What's your system, then?", Erik asks, turning a bit towards Charles.

"Maybe you can figure it out when you see it," Charles teases, rising on his toes to peck Erik on the lips. It occurs to Erik that this is only their fourth kiss, if you count the two kisses at the door as one, which one might except technically there was a short break between them. It by no means feels like a normal occurrence, still sends Erik's heart racing, but it feels… natural, somehow. It's scary, but good. Scary good.

"That would be great," Erik says dumbly, and Charles smiles again before stepping away a little to give him space to stir the food.

"Should I set the table?", he offers.

"Uhm, sure, plates are in that cupboard, on the right side. That's also where glasses are." Erik points. "Silverware is over there. Uhm, I'm not sure what I have to drink, usually I drink tab water and I think I also have some orange juice, but I'm not sure I have any wine."

"That's okay, I'm happy with water," Charles assures him, sending a smile over his shoulder while he tries to reach for the plates on the top shelf. Erik almost has to come over and take two down for him, but Charles manages on his own after all. He isn't all that small, but Erik is around five inches taller, and when he organized his kitchen he hadn't really considered that someone smaller might have to be able to not get to everything.

The next couple of minutes are quite domestic while Charles sets the table in the living room and Erik fills their plates, and then they sit together and Charles asks him what kind of pet he'd have if he could have anything, not counting dogs or cats. He amends that it's not allowed to be in a terrarium after Erik first picks fish and, when Charles pouts and decides that that doesn't count, a snake, and then a tarantula. "Something that _does_ something," he says, and Erik thinks about it for a long moment.

"A pig," he finally decides.

Charles blinks and tilts his head.

"They're smart and clean," Erik explains. "If it _has_ to be warm-blooded but isn't allowed to be a cat, I guess I'd like a pig."

"Okay," Charles says after a moment. "What would you name it?"

"Jasper."

"Okay," Charles says again. He waits a bit, and when Erik doesn't explain, just raises an eyebrow, he purses his lips. "I'd like a ferret," he informs Erik. "You can play with them and, unlike cats, they swim."

"Some cats swim. Turkish Vans, for example. They have fluffy tails," Erik replies.

Then he pauses. They're honestly talking about pets. This is not what he invited Charles over for and while he enjoys his company, if he continues letting Charles distract him he might chicken out in the end.

Decisively, he puts his chopsticks down and says, perhaps a bit too loudly, "I freaked out."

Charles lowers his gaze and stops smiling.

"Not because of the asexuality thing," Erik quickly explains, which is not perfectly true, but not false either. "Because this… I don't usually do this."

"What do you mean?", Charles asks quietly. He's not looking at Erik, just poking at his stir-fry with one chopstick.

Erik takes a deep breath and tries to gather his thoughts. "Relationships. I don't usually… it takes me a long time to… I don't usually _feel_ this much. This fast." At that, Charles looks up, and Erik quickly avoids his gaze, because he's not sure he can do this if they look each other in the eye. "Usually, I'm more… careful. Deliberate. Relationships don't happen to me like this, I normally see it coming a mile in advance, and I have a lot more time to think," he explains haltingly. "This… there wasn't time to think, to decide, it just…"

"It just happened," Charles says gently. "Out of nowhere. Just… bam."

"Yes," Erik agrees. He's still not able to meet Charles' eyes. "It was just there, suddenly."

"And the asexuality doesn't make it easier," Charles adds, voice still gentle. Erik doesn't say anything, because it's true.

"Look, Erik," Charles says after a moment. He slides his foot forward until their toes bump together. "This scares me too. I mean, I think I implied as much already, but I usually don't get into relationships like this. I usually already know the person well before we decide to date, and I… I haven't been in a relationship with a non-asexual person since I realized my orientation eight years ago. I don't… this isn't easy for me either."

Erik takes a deep breath. "I know." He reaches across the table and stills Charles' hand where it's fiddling with the chopstick, finally able to look up and meet Charles' eyes.

"We barely know each other," Charles tells him quietly, not looking away. "But it feels like… it feels grand."

"Yes," Erik agrees, voice just as quiet. "Grand." It's the right word. And it's scary, but somehow, illogically, knowing that Charles is struggling with that as well makes it easier.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> Made by [disprove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/disprove/pseuds/disprove)!
> 
> The plots for the movies Erik starred in were all liberally taken from his comic verse origins. The title "113 Days" refers to the number of days between the revolt on the 7th of October 1944 and the liberation of Auschwitz on the 27th of January1945. If you would like to know more about the revolt, go [here](http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/aurevolt.html).  
> For more information on the Lillehammer Affair (Charles summary was rather simplified, if accurate), see [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lillehammer_affair).


End file.
